A Paper-Tiger
by Bartholomew Ramsbottom III
Summary: A Quasi-lampoon on the state of Original Characters, and how often they can be made to exclusively fit into a series of canonized events, without regard for the story that they were torn from. Or what havoc they could reek upon the all to often predictable future. Because, after all, timing can change everything. A Paper Tiger could, for a second, become real.
1. Chapter 1

Paper-Tiger.

Prologue

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Imagine a world where almost everyone on Earth had some kind of superpower or extraordinary ability A world where heroes where so common that hundreds of schools across the planet had opened everywhere from Germany to Australia for the sole purpose of training the next generation of heroes.

Oh, and that in that world they call powers "Quirks".

Now imagine that in that world, there was someone that was perfectly happy where they were. Someone that was already doing well in their own classes preparing them to be both a Hero and someone that could possibly get a job that they really liked and did well in.

Now Imagine that that person was suddenly, and almost randomly, shipped almost halfway across the world for little or no explained reason in a exchange program that they didn't even know their school had. That they had little more than half a week to say their goodbyes, pack, and fork over almost all of their savings just to take a rush course in the language. Let alone the customs and inhabitants.

Now see that young person be ripped away from the only home they'd ever known because of some force and cause that even their parents and most trusted teachers could only vaguely clue them in on.

And throw in the fact that somehow they'd have to, for some god-forsaken fault of classic school bureaucracy, take not just one, but _two_ Hero courses simultaneously, after the first classes had already begun.

Now imagine yourself in that unlucky person's shoes, and ask yourself:

Does it _really_ matter that what you've been sent to is seen as one of the greatest Hero schools in the world?

No.

No it does not.

Because, after all, timing can be everything.

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	2. One Tired Transfer-student

Paper-Tiger:

Prologue: One Tired Transfer-Student

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The year at the Japanese hero-high school UA was going on as it had every year since the facility had opened. Entrance exams had been passed, uniforms and costumes handed out, team-building exercises and partial ability appraisals had gone on hand in hand. And now the Premiere class of the school's Hero course; Class 1-A, was about to be on it's way to another training facility.

There was a kind of anxious energy buzzing around that class that afternoon. Part of that probably came from the excitement and anticipation surrounding the training they were about to have. Though a larger part of that quite definitely came from the fact that their teacher, the night-based and ever-tired Shouta Aizawa, AKA The Hero Eraserhead, had still not returned after receiving a call and enigmatically declaring that he would be, 'back soon'. It had been almost half-an-hour since then and most of the friendly chatter had started to wind down as even the most outgoing of the class began to run out of things to talk about before their conversations inevitably turned to the topic of why their teacher wasn't back yet and why he'd left in the first place.

A boy with green hair named Izuku Midoriya sat in the currently unmoving vehicle in a standard blue and white-striped UA tracksuit, he still regretted being so reckless and getting his actual costume destroyed in the previous day's team exercise. It was a minor issue, but it was still a little embarrassing when all of his class were wearing their own colourful costumes.

Such things had long been pushed to the back of the boy's mind though. Not only had he also been put in the odd position of wondering just what Mr. Aizawa was doing to be gone so long, but he had just had some of the first friendly interactions with a class since his early childhood. It was a bit overwhelming for Him.

What was extremely overwhelming for him and the rest of Class 1-A though, was the white rocket that had roared over all of their heads. Though it was brief, before the air-bound missile roared away to what looked like the cost, Izuku could have sworn, if he had been a swearing man, that there had been a somewhat familiar looking round shape attached to where the cone-shaped head of a rocked should have been. This was kind of in the back of his head at the moment due to the fact that a rocket had just been launched.

This event had Rocketed the class back into wild conversation as everyone save a few crowded over to one side of the bus to watch the white missile slowly disappear.

"Does anyone know what that thing was?" Ochako Uraraka, a normally bubbly brunette questioned in a unusually worried tone. Though as she said this a blond boy by the name of Denki Kaminari suddenly began wildly pointing at the fiery tail of the speedy missile. "You guys don't think that that's from a villain attack do you?!" He franticly asked. Clearly the young man's comment was akin to dropping a broken power cable into an anthill as this ignited something that only seems to happen in a very specific scenario, that being a crowded bus full of highly energized teenagers being assailed by vast amounts of extreme boredom ignited a fuse to an mental explosion. As it just so happened, that rare, odd, and again, highly specific scenario was happening that very day.

In the minds of almost every student on the bus.

Though only a few actively started stampeding throughout the parked bus they remained exclusively on the side that allowed them a view of the maligned projectile. A Theoretical person that was walking towards the bus would have been treated to the sight of the large vehicle being almost rocked over by a number of wildly running teens inside perused by another group of students trying in vain to get them to calm down. And if that supposed person was unfortunate enough to have actually been inside that place, they would have, hypothetically of course, seen a small number of teenagers trying extremely hard to actively keep their cool while being buffeted about by the raucous and rumpus running of the aforementioned group as one teen in particular was participating in the way that, if you saw him, was probably the only way he thought possible, to help contain the ramping hysteria.

Katsuki Bakugou should have been thankful that he aimed to be something other than a emergency negotiator, for though he possessed, or even excided the needed lung power, his arguments were more likely to kill everyone evolved through sheer anger than anything else.

Say that as this was happening, Izuku Midoriya just happened to get a glance out one of the mostly body-obscured widows to see that the instigator of all this hubbub and assorted commotion had actually turned round in mid-air to start roaring away once again.

Say that as he saw this Midoriya decided to quickly calculate the exact angle that the missile was coming at.

If there had been any hypothetical invisible visitors to that bus, they would have skipped out as fast as their quantum theorized body would have allowed, had it existed, once Izuku cried out in a voice shrill with enough force to cut over everything else happening in the miniature war zone that had been formed between The Panicked, who still hadn't thought to go and contact a faculty member, and the Counter-Panic Effort. Loud though one of them might have been.

"It's coming straight at us!" The bellowed cry came.

This quickly brought everything to a halt, and for a split second, time seemed to stand still in The World.

A moment of dissonant peace flowed over the school's vast yards.

The wind blew soft.

Grass and trees rustled gently.

Somewhere a butterfly landed quietly on a flower.

And then the stillness of The World came crashing down.

A boy with a head of hair half white and half red leapt forward across the whole of the bus from his seat out a surprisingly breakable window facing the oncoming rocket in a scene that could have been almost deliberately created to suite a slow-motion action scene.

A floating pair of gloves seemingly attached to a pair of shoes apparently tripped over the leg of a seat, propelling what would have likely been the upper torso of a body straight into the wide open and still shouting face of Katsuki Bakugou, as the split-second of muffled volume from the ash blond boy was followed by his face turning a shade of red comparable to an embarrassed tomato floating in a dark red bowl of Bordeaux underneath a red high-powered searchlight, and an embarrassed, and undoubtedly female originated shriek fractured the brief silence almost as much it did the window right above the floating, and again, twice undoubtedly female, gloves and shoes.

Midoriya, as soon as he realized where the careening capsule was taking itself, and in the midst of his warning shout, turned around in his seat, grabbing the two of his classmates nearest to him despite their protestations, a girl with pink skin, hair, and black sclera, and a girl with long green hair and a longer frog-like tongue, under his surprisingly strong arms. Summoning as little power as he possibly could into the only free limbs he had, Midoriya lightly tapped the wall of the bus with his right leg, and after the metal was torn open, leaped throw the newly created exit with the two girls still in his firm grasp.

He took a moment to congratulate himself on not breaking his bones again before wondering how much it would hurt to land on a leg with torn muscles in it.

Glancing to his side as he flew through the air for slowed down second, he saw Tenya Iida, a boy with glasses and engines in his legs, leading the other students out of the actual exit while carrying a loudly complaining Kaminari under his arm in much the same way Izuku was. He also couldn't help but notice Bakugou walking out of a smoking hole in the wall of the bus with an oddly stiff motion and a reddened face as a pair of gloves that he believed the owner of which was named Toru Hagakure, followed him smacking at his back.

Once he landed, Izuku mentally smacked himself for forgetting that there was a door. Then came the pain in his leg, as the boy thought to himself. 'Oh, that's how much.'

Ignoring this as best he could, he managed to turn around and watch as the missile kept gaining at a speed that seemed to be almost entirely focused on mocking their efforts to avoid it's all but assured meeting point.

That was until a glacier appeared out of thin air as the missile impacted the mighty wall of ice without a single sound of an explosion to be heard. Instead what every student saw as they looked up was the rocket simply bounce over the glacier along with that familiar looking sphere, now separated from the missile, spin around like a mad top in mid-air, even out again and reignite to zoom towards the pristine grounds of UA High.

All eyes were on it, even Shouto Todoroki, the boy that had dived out the window in such a spectacular fashion, and the boy that had apparently raised the ice wall, came running around the front of the bus brushing off glass fragments to witness the missile elegantly curve up in defiance of common physics and sense, to fly directly into the open sketch-book of a dishevelled and panting young man and disappear into it's pages.

The tired mess of a teen had what seemed to be white hair, and was wearing what looked like a quickly thrown on pinstripe suit, a pinstripe suit that looked like someone had decided to tailor it out of line paper.

Beside him was The Class's long missing teacher. The Hero Eraserhead was just as dishevelled as the young man was, though he was less sweaty in his usual all black clothing and thin but extremely long gray scarf . His long black hair cascaded down as he stared at his phone with tired eyes before bending over and picking up the sphere that had not been absorbed into the boy's book.

He looked at the boy. "You could have gotten a better distance you know." He said pointedly.

Looking up from his panting. "Didn't want to scare. To more double- trouble." The boy replied in a rough, awkward sentence with an odd accent.

Mr. Aizawa then looked up at the mess of the bus, the incredulous looks of his students, the glacier, Midoriya massaging his leg and apologizing faster then he'd ever heard anyone talk to Tsuyu Asui and Mina Ashido, who were quietly trying to get him to stop saying sorry. He looked at all of this, including a loud argument between Hagakure and Bakugou about something he couldn't quite catch, and simply said, in a voice that hadn't changed at all from it's usual monotone:

"We're almost a half-hour late now, I suggest everyone load back onto the bus and just be careful not to fall out since we don't have the time to get a new one."

He then walked to the front of the bus passed his stunned students and, just before opening the door, said almost as an after thought:

"Oh, and this is a transfer student. I was running him through the tests that you all just went through, he passed. Now get in. You don't want to be any more late then you already are." Almost imitatively after walking into the bus, his tired face popped out again like a depressed and sideways jack-in-the-box. "And if anyone asks why he's in a class that's already full, you will be left behind." His usual monotone had a destining edge of menace seasoned lightly with an dusting of frustrated confusion. Confusion that felt like the kind where you had been trying to put a puzzle together, only to find out that half your pieces had been swapped out with bits of frozen blood-sausage.

Wordlessly, the entirety of class 1-A piled into the bus, including the white-blond haired boy that had unitentionally caused the whole thing. Several if not most of the class was practically forced to stare at him in one way or another.

However the boy in question simply found a seat, slumped down in it, opened a previously unseen backpack, dug out a mountain of books. Half of which looked like their own class textbooks. And, after letting out a long, tired sigh followed by something that sounded vaguely like a foreign expletive, He began alternating between flipping through his sketches, and taking notes from the books.

If the class had a collective eyebrow to raise, it would have already been colonizing the moon. And a trip to Mars looked possible once he fell asleep with his head hanging out of the still smoking hole in the bus.

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 _ **Author's Notes:**_

" **Welp, here comes a new one. I've really liked this series for a while now, but I just didn't have any really good ideas to use. Well, until this one anyway. I also thought that this would be a good challenge for my writing skills, as I've never really written anything like a high school setting or anything to closely related to that.**

 **Thanks to everyone that Favorited and followed this while it was only a header and a prologue. It really meant [The World] To me. (You out there, you know what I mean, Mr. POWAH)**

 **Until the next one."**

 **-B. R. III.**


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